Exit Zero

by Neil A. Cohen

Pat turned and faced the man in confusion. “Wait? How did you know I was a….” As he drifted into blackness he could hear short bursts of automatic gunfire below.

  Pat was thrust back into consciousness by a loud explosion. He tried to sit up but realized he was immobilized, strapped to a stretcher, his head and neck held in place by restraints. There was a blindfold around his eyes, but he was able to see a small sliver of light from the right bottom side.

  There were two men talking across the room. “Christ, what was that you think, a gas station going up in flames?” one of the men said.

  “That was too big, sounded like some sort of large building. Perhaps a jet strike. We don’t have much time, this place is going down fast.”

  “Yeah, well, they better not nuke this region with us in here. You sure your guy is trustworthy?”

  “I’m more than sure, he’s not going to call in any strikes until we are long gone. Now grab the baggage, we got to pick up the other asshole and we’re out of here.”

  Their footsteps approached the stretcher, lifted it roughly, and carried it out of the room, and then outside. Bright sunlight could be seen through Pat’s blindfold. The sounds of large vehicles rolling by and formations of men running by in heavy boots made him assume he was at some sort of military installation.

  “I’m not infected,” he forced himself to say, but the words came out weakly.

  There was no response.

  Pat was loaded into the back of a vehicle, from the small sliver of view, it appeared to be an ambulance. No one acknowledged he was awake, or even alive; it was as if they were transferring a piece of baggage.

  The doors to the back of the vehicle were closed with a slam, one after another, and he realized he was alone. He struggled to gather more visual space between his eye and the blindfold. A minute later, he heard the door beyond the top of his head open and the sound of the driver taking his seat. Then the other door opened and someone jumped into the passenger seat.

  “Hello? Who is there, can you speak to me?”

  There was no response but he could hear the flipping and clicking of switches, the ignition starting, and then the movement forward, slow at first, then accelerating to a fast speed.

  “Are you taking me to the hospital?” he asked, finally getting his voice back enough to yell out above the sound of the engine.

  “You ain’t going to hospital, partner,” came the reply with a fake southern twang. “I don’t think you want to be at any of the hospitals in Jersey right now. They ain’t doing so well, and I couldn’t imagine a worse place to be. Besides, you don’t need no hospital, you’re all right. And if you weren’t, weeeeelll, not much the hospital could do for you anyway in that case. But that ain’t the case,” the driver said with a hint of “I know something you don’t know” in his voice.

  “Where are you taking me?” Patrick asked with a lump in his throat.

  “Where do you think I am taking you?” the driver said, again answering a question with a question in some sort of sick guessing game.

  “What are you talking about?” Pat muttered, his mind racing, but feeling dizzy and disoriented again.

  “You’re on some good meds back there, so don’t worry if you can’t put everything together right now. You’re in good hands. My partner and I have been in worse shit than this and got out okay. That’s our specialty. Locating people and securing their extraction out of one godforsaken place or another, and delivering them to whoever has requested our services. Usually in one piece.” He fake snickered. “There were a few shitheads we had to find and deliver, certain camel fuckers we had in the back of the van when we realized who they were and what they had done. And, well, while we delivered them alive, they may have been not in exactly one piece. Sometimes bones get broken and teeth get left behind, you know? But hey, that’s why you got insurance right?”

  The driver looked over at his partner in the passenger seat who did not share his gift of gab and sense of humor. He sat stoically smoking his cigarette, looking out the window at the unfolding carnage that was taking place in suburban New Jersey.

  “Why me, why were you sent to find me? And who are you delivering me to?”

  “Like you, Congressman, I am also from the great state of New Jersey, born and raised, and while I doubt you and I would have ever traveled in the same circles, we do have some mutual friends.”

  Pat immediately thought of the one person who actually had the influence to change events. Maxwell Gold. The driver must be working for him.

  “So, if you don’t mind, can you tell me where you are taking me?”

  “Mount Weather, nice little getaway in Virginia,” the pilot explained as if he was talking about a vacation spot. “Especially if you’re looking to get away from some heavy shit, like another September 11th, or World War III, or the zombie apocalypse.”

  Pat knew that Mount Weather was an Emergency Operations Center that also served as a disaster shelter for key government figures should there be large scale domestic crisis.

  “The president is going to be addressing the nation shortly,” the driver explained. “It will be in the Capitol and he will have the congress and senate there, all of them. Well, all of them except for you, of course.”

  To maintain continuity of government, one cabinet member was always chosen to be at a distant, secure, and secret location when the president and other top leaders of the United States were gathered at a single location.

  “You are going to be very famous very soon, Congressman. There will be no one leaving the Capitol building tonight, not alive anyway. There will be a sole survivor at Mount Weather, but it ain’t gonna be the cabinet member who is currently being driven there now. As you know, when the president speaks to all the big muckety mucks, the Secret Service takes one of those muckety fucks off to a secure location, so if something should happen to everyone else, there would be a continuity of government. On this particular occasion, it’s the IRS commissioner who is the designated cabinet member being sent there. Ain’t nobody going to miss that bastard, not even his wife.”

  “So you, and whomever you work for, plan on killing a cabinet official?” Pat asked incredulously.

  “First off, I work for the American people. You may never have heard of our agency, and that’s okay, not many have, but you do pay our salaries with your taxes, and for that, I wanted to say thank you.” The driver chuckled and shot a smug look over to his partner in the passenger seat who seemed to be ignoring the conversation. “And dude, worrying about that muckety who will soon perish in a terrible, unforeseeable car crash, didn’t you hear me? He’s the IRS commissioner, so don’t get to emotional! To answer your question, yes, that’s the plan.”

  “And you plan on ensuring no one walks out of the president’s speech alive?”

  “Not exactly,” the driver said. “There may be some of them walking out of there, but they ain’t going to be what you and I would think of as alive.”

  “And then your boss,” Pat pressed, “whoever is orchestrating this, plans on just walking into Washington and taking over the country?”

  “No, we plan on following the proper chain of command. And I don’t think the Commander in Chief will be walking in, he most likely will be arriving via helicopter. Arriving strapped down in the back of an ambulance would not be dignified. After you get cleaned up at Mount Weather we will get you into a right proper ride. But first, we have to pick up one more package. I think you can help with that, help make the pickup a little more smooth, since I don’t think this package is gonna be as easy to retrieve as you were. I hope we can count on your assistance when we’re ready. You need to relax and follow the plan. We will be taking you out of those restraints as soon as we arrive at our next stop. That is, as long as we have your understanding that this is all going to happen as planned, and you’re not going to cause any trouble. Do we understand each other, Congressman?”

  Pat sighed. He had no alternative but to go along for now. “Yes, I understand
.”

  “Well that’s great. Do as we say, follow the plan, and soon everything will get back to the way it should be. That sound okay to you…Mr. President?”

  Chapter 51

  Chadwick Manor

  Ivan, Marifi, and Jerry sat in the ornate office of the former headmaster of Chadwick Manor School for Boys. Standing in the corner was Wendell Dee. Wendell was a fellow prepper who had a public access TV show he filmed from his basement. He was more of a hoarder and racist than a true prepper. Ivan had made his way to Wendell’s house when he left the group at the gas station.

  The empty mansion had been in the process of being restored to serve as a kind of Plan B command center for Ivan before he ran low on cash. The school had long ago been shut down, leaving a barren and litter strewn facility which previously housed over one hundred boys when it functioned as a private boarding school. Ivan had purchased the large 19th century house from a state auction after the previous owner/headmaster of the school was put away in prison on seventy counts of child molestation and rape.

  The former headmaster, who was a current inmate of Bergen County Prison, had actually attempted to sue Ivan from prison to try and regain control of the facility that had served as a chamber of horrors for many a young boy. Ivan had made a counter offer. He’d worked with Big V to get word to some of V’s associates who were also serving time in the same prison that they had a “tree jumper” in their midst, a term prisoners used for those inmates that preyed on children, a sin that was unforgivable to even the most sinful.

  Ivan was not bothered any further by the old pedophile.

  The abandoned house of horrors was perfectly situated for the current situation. The surrounding grounds were completely enclosed by a twelve foot high stone and cement wall. A large electronic iron gate blocked the only entrance, a driveway that led into a tight, uphill driveway leading to the front door. In the basement of the house was a fortified chamber with steel doors. It had been a sex and torture dungeon set up by the previous deviant owner, and Ivan had planned to convert it into a nuclear fallout shelter. On the grounds of the facility he had stockpiles of food, water, and stoves that would cook with the rays of the sun.

  In the study of the former owner, Ivan sat behind an old oak wood desk, Marifi stood in the corner gazing out the window at the setting sun, and Jerry sat down across from them on an old chair in the corner. Ivan had dispatched the rest of his followers to try and find survivors and bring them to the school grounds. He felt that between Dan, Jerry, and Marifi, he had all the personal protection he needed.

  Ivan flipped through the pages of Dr. Coleman’s journal again and then threw it on the desk.

  “You want me to hang onto that?” Jerry offered.

  Ivan looked over at him. He was tired and his head wound was still painful. “Hold onto it for whom, Gerald?”

  “What are you talking about?” Jerry responded.

  “Hold onto the notebook for whom, I asked. Hold onto it for safekeeping for me, or from me?”

  “I’m not getting what you’re trying to say.” Jerry sat up in the chair, annoyed at the direction the conversation was taking.

  Marifi turned her gaze from the window to the two men.

  Ivan turned to Wendell. “Would you please excuse us? Could you check with the guard out front to see if he needs to be relieved?”

  Wendell pulled out his silver handgun, dropped the clip to ensure it was still loaded, and then slammed it back into the chamber. He nodded and left the room.

  Ivan rolled his eyes and let out a small sigh. “Jerry, for whom do you intend to hold onto this book? Do you want to hold onto it for me, as you feel you would be a better protector of it than I? Or do you desire to hold onto it to keep it from me, and deliver it to my father?”

  Jerry raised his 6’2 frame up off of the chair and postured. “I don’t like the fucking tone of the question. Are you making some sort of accusation?”

  Ivan remained seated, his tone and posture not changing from a monotone, almost disinterested intonation. “I am asking you who you are going to be loyal to. Me or my father, as I know you are beholden to him.”

  “I am beholden to fucking no one asshole,” Jerry countered angrily. “Not you or your fucking dad.”

  “Good,” said Ivan. “I wanted to ensure you were going to be okay should he spill your homo secret to the world.”

  Jerry pulled out his pistol, his face turning red with rage and his eyes opened wide with both surprise and anger. He pointed the gun directly at Ivan’s face. “What the fuck did you just say?”

  Ivan’s demeanor did not change an iota. “I’m sorry, did I use the wrong term? Queer? Gayboy? Sodomite? Which do you prefer?”

  Jerry took a step toward Ivan. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  Marifi reached for her spray can of “mace” containing the virus, but before her hand could remove the canister, Jerry whipped out a second firearm with his left hand and pointed it towards her.

  “Make one more move, bitch, and I will waste you. You spray that shit at me, I will fucking put one between your eyes and one in your husband’s heart before your hand moves.”

  “Gerald, I know women are not your cup of tea,” Ivan said, “but that is no way to speak to my wife. Now let’s refocus and get back to your faggotry.”

  Jerry pointed both guns at Ivan and took a step closer to his target, his guns now only two feet from Ivan’s face. He knew Ivan was unstable and had been off his meds for a couple of days, but he was going too far.

  “I’m sorry my terminology is so inelegant,” Ivan said. “What do you prefer? Pansy? Fairy? Pole-smoker?”

  Jerry’s body was shaking but his hands stayed steady with his fingers on the triggers, his eyes wide and his breathing deep. He knew he was about to kill Ivan if one more word left his mouth.

  Ivan leaned closer to the two barrels and said loudly, “Pillow biter! Is that it? Pillow biter?”

  To Jerry’s surprise, an uncontrolled spit of laughter breached his lips. He lowered his arms and dropped his guns to the ground. He walked back over to the chair where he was sitting and collapsed into it, his head in his hands, as if his whole world had ended, and it was both a good and bad thing.

  Marifi was confused but took her hands off of her weapons. She looked over at Ivan and in the Tagalog language asked, “Bakla?”

  Ivan stood up and walked over to Jerry, placing his hand on his shoulder. Jerry was shaking his head, as if he was regretting not killing both Ivan and Marifi so everything could remain the same, but also with relief knowing that perhaps things did not need to remain the same.

  “Listen, Gerald, I don’t give a shit what you do,” Ivan said. “You’re the toughest guy I know. You’re a killer. But I know what my father holds over your head, and I can’t afford to have someone who is compromised. It means he could get to you and order you to kill me at any time. I know if he does want me dead, he will send someone I trust.”

  Marifi turned away from them to look out the window, but her mind remained on the conversation behind her.

  “I expect my followers to start coming here for safety. They will be looking to me, but I have no leadership ability. I told them something like this would happen, and it did, so they will think I have answers, but I don’t. I don’t know how to help them survive or fight these creatures. You can do that. You can help keep them alive until we can figure a way out. I need you. Well, I don’t need you that way... you know I dig Asian chicks,” Ivan ended with an obvious joke which provoked another laugh from the warrior.

  “Yeah man, you can trust me,” Jerry said.

  A loud buzz sounded from the satellite phone on the desk. Jerry retrieved it, looked at the display. “It’s Dan.” Jerry answered the phone and the booming voice of Dan Sullivan could be heard blasting from the speakers.

  “What’s up, douchebags? I’m back in Jersey. I miss anything?”

  Ivan walked over to where Jerry was standing. He was scratching at hi
s forearms as if there were ants crawling across them. It had been several days since he’d taken his SSRI drugs and he was getting symptomatic. Marifi had noticed how he was more unbalanced than usual and it concerned her.

  Ivan leaned into the phone. “No, I was asking Gerald if he would stop hitting on my wife in front of me. I know this asshole has a girl in every port, but he can keep his clammy hands off my wife.”

  Jerry smiled.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you, brother?” Dan said. “I told you keep your mind off of pussy, and besides, if Ivan croaks, I got first shot at her. She don’t speak no fucking English, near perfect woman.” Dan chortled. “Listen, whackjob,” Dan continued, referring to Ivan, “I’m tracking Pat’s signal and while I told that asshole to stay here on the beach at Cape May, it says he’s not far from Jerry’s signal. Is he with you?”

  “Negative,” Jerry said and stood up. “I am going outside for a smoke and to check the perimeter.”

  “Yeah, you go do that,” Dan’s voice responded mockingly. “Go check the perimeter, and check your shorts while you’re at it, ‘cause I bet you shit your pants today without me around save your ass,” Dan continued on in full ball-busting momentum. Even the apocalypse did not change the Sullivans.

  Jerry handed off the phone to Ivan and opened the office door, just as Wendell was about to knock to re-enter. Jerry wondered if he had been there the whole time listening in. They each gave the other the stink eye as they passed.

  Ivan took the sat-phone. “Daniel, stay at the beach for now, guard the sub. If Patrick is coming here, we will need to get to you anyway. Hold tight and I will be back in touch within the hour.”

  “Yeah okay, Dan said. “Hey, when I dropped those kids off, that piece of shit Gordon was there. He doesn’t go anywhere without your old man telling him what to do. He said something about a plan. You know something you’re not telling me? I swear I will rip your fucking head off if you are up to some bullshit!”

  “One hour, Daniel.” Ivan disconnected the call.